Trade
by Hamilcar
Summary: As Harry is dying, Peter makes a deal, exchanging his powers for his friend's life. He wakes up in a world with fragments of memory haunting him and problems looming on the horizon that he's powerless to confront. Movie AU, Peter/Harry
1. Devil Went Down

~*~

Numb fingers extended to touch the bleeding tears in Harry's chest in a futile gesture to try and stop them, and Peter shook his head wishing his eyes would clear up. These were going to be Harry's last moment and he couldn't even see his friend's face through all the tears. Instead, he felt for his hand and tried to find his own voice, to reassure Harry that he would be alright. But when he did manage to speak, all he could do was plead.

"You're got to be alright," Peter whispered. "Try and hold on, we'll get help, we'll find somebody! Don't go, Harry, please, I would do anything…"

The moment the words escaped his lips, everything around Peter froze. Harry's breathing had stilled but he didn't look dead, only suspended. Even the blood pouring from his chest was halted in place, and when Peter turned around he saw that Mary Jane was similarly stationary. She wasn't all that he saw, however.

A figure stepped out from the shadows and Peter shuddered, involuntarily.

"You would do anything to save your friend? Really?" The figure approached and Peter saw his claws, his vermillion garb as red as Harry's wounds. What arrested him most, however, were the eyes, piercing and blank, that penetrated him with their glow. "Just how deeply do you mean _anything?_"

For several moments, Peter wasn't sure how to respond. "You're real?" He finally whispered.

"That depends on what you mean by 'you.'" The figure smirked. "_I_ am real. What '_I_' am, though… I have power. I'll leave the rest up to you."

Peter's throat felt dry and constricted, but he managed to speak. "So is this the part where you demand my soul for a favor?"

The creature laughed and threw his head back. "Your soul? How very droll. And uncreative. No, I do not want your soul. Investments like that tend to take far too long to pay off, and have the unfortunate habit of being circumvented."

"Then what do you want? I'm sure you want something."

"Not one for beating around the bush, are we? Very well then, Peter Parker. I want your power. That is much more important to me than your soul. You use it to do immediate good. But it haunts you, doesn't it? Makes life hard, makes you do things you don't want to do."

"It's my responsibility," Peter insisted.

"And I can relieve you of it! Besides," he gestured, "don't you have a responsibility to your friend over there? You did drag him into this, after all. Persuaded him to come and fight with you when he was hardly ready. Drove him to the brink in the first place. Made your own enemies and then expected him to come through. And lets not forget that it was you that symbiote was planning to impale, before he jumped in the way. You don't think you owe him _anything?_"

Peter turned back and looked at his friend, still and unseeing. "Harry… Harry, I'm sorry…"

"Apologies are only so much air and sound. I am offering solutions. To your life, to your friend's life. All I'm asking is that you allow me to undo an accident that should never have been to begin with. What do you say?"

"I don't… I mean…. I know that I… it's just…" Peter looked down at Harry, down at the ragged tears in his torso, and felt a jolt of fear at what would happen once time unstopped itself and the last few moments they had would slip away. There was no time left now, now hope but this. And whatever else the creature was, demon or not, he was right. Harry deserved better than bleeding to death on top of a girder.

"Time is wasting." He held up a hand. "You have until ten and then I snap my fingers and your verdant pal says goodbye forever."

"Fine!" Peter blurted before the count could begin, still staring at Harry. "If I do this you won't let him die? And you won't pull anything like killing him the day after or something like that? He'll live?"

"Of course he'll live. I'll need him to live," the creature chuckled, though Peter wasn't sure what he found so amusing. Then a piece of parchment appeared in his hands, writing scrawled all over it. "Sign at the bottom and we will have concluded our business."

"Just my powers, right?" Peter asked hesitantly. "Not my life or my soul or anything else?"

"Just your power," the creature assured him.

Peter nodded and scribbled his name on the line at the bottom. "Now what happens? Do you heal him right now and let us leave? Or something else?"

"And now you wake up to find him alive."

"Wake up? What does that mean?"

"That means it will take a moment for reality to realign itself and you will be momentarily unconscious in the process."

"_Realign?_ What are you talking about?! I thought you were going to…"

"I said that I had a solution and that he would live. I didn't say anything about healing him." He leered and Peter's heart sank, as he got an inkling of what he'd done in his panic. "He will never have been injured to begin with because the chain of events leading up to that occurrence has been altered, thanks to you."

"What! But you only asked for…"

"I said I wanted your power. I made no stipulations on _time_." The darkness around the creature was spreading outward, swallowing up the construction site and closing in on Peter's vision. "I am taking your power from the very beginning, from the very moment of the bite – a bite that now never happened."

"But you can't…" Peter started to protest.

"You were the one who signed the agreement. It's not _my_ fault that you didn't read it first."

"Who are you, anyway?" Peter managed to scream before his vision finally winked out.

"There are those who call me Mephisto. Let's leave it at that."

~*~

Peter rolled over and his eyes sprang open, darting around in panic for a few moments, He sat up, nearly slamming into the headboard as he did, and inadvertently roused the person beside him.

"Unh," Harry yawned. "What's up, Pete? Where's the fire? You got class or something?"

Shaking his head, Peter tried to focus. "I had a really weird dream. It was… I woke up."

"Yeah, I can see that," Harry said, not lifting his head from the pillow. "But otherwise, you're not exactly making a lot of sense here Pete. What was it about? Was it nightmare, since it woke you up?"

"I don't know. I can't remember. It's the strangest thing, I feel like it's important, but… I think you died," he said. "Died or were dying or got hurt or something."

"Oh. _Cheery_. Look, Pete," he yawned, "it's… six in the morning," he said, flipping over and reading the red digits of the clock. "Way too early to be dealing with stuff like this. 'Sides, it was just a dream."

"I guess." Peter looking down at the cover, mentally snatching at wisps of… of _something_.

"I'm getting back to sleep. And I suggest you do the same. Don't wanna pass out in Connor's class or something, right? Plus we have lunch with my dad later, which means we're both going to need all our energy to get through. Anyway, you'll feel better in the morning. In the actual morning, I mean. Probably forget you even had a dream."

"Yeah," Peter sighed as he lay back down. "Probably."

~*~

A/N: So, as usual, kicking things off with a prologue/setup. Basically, it's a take on the events of OMD/BND as they might have happened in the movieverse (though with a clear AU establishment). More will be revealed in short order about what has changed, why/how Peter's with Harry, what's happening with MJ, and all the various other ripple effects. Peter will recall snatches here and there and events will start moving in the alternate world until things get pushed to a breaking point. Here's hoping this story will run more smoothly than the last few and that you enjoy along the way.


	2. Afternoon Delight

~*~

"Are you alright? You're looking a little lost this morning." Harry heaped spoonfuls of sugar into his morning tea and stirred it before sipping.

"I'm still thinking about that dream." Peter stared into his own mug of coffee.

"Come on Pete. It was a dream. That's all." He laughed. "Forget about it!"

"It feels _important_, though. Like it was something I should remember." He shook his head and sighed. "Oh well. It's gone now."

"So what do you think it should wear for lunch with dad?" Harry asked anxiously. "Should I go all out and reach for a suit? I don't want to look like I'm trying too hard, but I don't want to look sloppy either."

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe something neat but not too formal? A collared shirt or a nice sweater or something? That's what I'll probably be wearing since I'll be coming from class."

"Yeah, but you're _you_. Dad wouldn't care if you showed up in a Hawaiian shirt paired with bike shorts. You impress him with you being yourself. I need a little extra."

"You're fine, Harry," Peter sighed, slightly frustrated.

"Not to dad I'm not!" He protested impatiently, sighing as he sat down. "Sorry. I'll stop whining. I know you don't want to hear it."

"It's _fine_," Peter said with a shrug. "I'm a little out of it, that's all."

Harry smiled at him over the rim of his mug. "Get to class and try to focus. Not that you _need_ to usually, but if you have chemistry or something, I'm sure you don't want to be nodding off over a beaker of something explosive."

"I'll be fine." Peter stood up and tossed the rest of his coffee into the sink, setting down the mug on the side. "But I should go if I don't want to be late."

"Alright." Harry stood up and kissed Peter. "You have a good day buddy."

Peter froze when Harry kissed him, as if it were a new sensation. But that made no sense; he'd been dating Harry for several months and had never dated anybody else. There was no basis for comparison, but it still felt…

"Weird," he whispered.

"What?" Harry asked, pulling away with a smile.

"Nothing." Peter shook his head and kissed Harry's cheek. "Tired, that's all."

He went to get dressed and grabbed his bookbag before heading to the window sill. Harry, who was reading the paper with a bowl of cereal in front of him, gave him a confused look.

"Uh, Pete? What the heck are you doing? Planning on crawling out the fire escape? Door's over there you know. Still works, the last I checked."

Peter froze at the threshold of the window and shook his head again. "Wow. I must really be tired."

Harry chuckled. "Being absentminded is one of your charms. But don't go walking into walls or something. You'll hurt yourself."

"Yeah," Peter mumbled and pushed his way out of the door.

Harry could joke, but something felt off and he knew it. The problem was, he couldn't say what.

~*~

Harry fidgeted and swirled the water that was in his glass. "I'm sure Peter will be here soon," he assured his father before draining the rest of the sparkling fluid. "He probably got held up or something."

"It's no problem," Norman replied, looking over the menu rather than at his son. "I'm sure he's busy doing something useful. He doesn't waste his time, unlike _some_ people." He glared at him. "Only smart thing you ever did was start to date someone like him instead of those sluts you usually brought home."

"Mary Jane wasn't a slut," he defended with a weary sigh.

"Well she was no Peter Parker. Bright, brilliant, hard-working – don't know what he sees in _you_." Catching something out of the corner of his eye, he folded the menu with a smile and stood up. "And speaking of Peter, here he is!"

"Sorry I'm late," Peter puffed. "There was a big crash on the way over. Iron Man was fighting something in the middle of the road." He omitted the part about him running over into an alley for some reason and trying to take off his clothes before catching himself and continuing on his way. "I couldn't get a cab and you know how slow subways can be."

"I'm just glad you made it," Norman beamed at him fondly. "The conversation was rather lacking prior to your arrival."

Peter shot Harry a sympathetic look, but his boyfriend had already turned away. Norman, sitting back down, either ignored the look or didn't notice.

"So how was your watercolor class?" Peter asked Harry, hoping to avoid an awkward silence.

"Never mind that," Norman interrupted. "I'm sure Harry had fun playing around with his paints. How have you been? Are you still taking that course with Connors? Harry said something over the phone about working as a lab assistant."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Connors suggested it to me after I took his class last semester. Normally they save that sort of position for graduate students, but Connors has seemed very impressed by my work." He blushed. "It's really very flattering."

"Well you deserve all of it, and don't you forget that," Norman replied, motioning over a waiter. "I'll have the veal osso buco. And you order whatever you like," he told Peter. "My treat."

"Okay. Well, uh, I guess… I don't know. What's good?" He asked the waiter.

"Try what I'm having," Norman suggested. "It's excellent."

"Sounds fine by me," said Peter, giving Norman a quick smile.

"And you, sir?" The waiter turned towards Harry.

"The lasagna," Harry replied shortly, passing the menu to the waiter.

Peter gave him another distressed glance but Norman's hand was at his arm a moment later.

"Would you like it if I got wine?" He asked.

"Sure? I guess."

"A bottle of whatever the sommelier recommends for the veal," Norman instructed the waiter, who walked away with a nod. "So what are your duties for Mr. Connors?"

"They're pretty limited right now. Mostly making sure everything in the lab is in order, setting up experiments for freshman lab sessions, things like that. He's talked about working with me for my capstone though. I mean, it's still a couple semesters away but I should probably start planning in advance if I'm going to do something complicated."

"I'm sure whatever you do will reflect very well on you. And I assume you'll be planning to go to graduate school? You're still on target for that?"

"Yes, when the time comes."

"Well, when you're finished – or even in the meanwhile – you know where to look for a job." Norman smiled at him as the waiter set down the wine and started to pour it. "Now that you're with my son you really are family. And I know the trouble you've been having with your own," he said sympathetically.

"My uncle will come around," Peter said unconvincingly. "He's a little old-fashioned, that's all."

"Well until he does, I'm here to help. I know you like independence, but it's alright to swallow your pride now and then in order to serve the greater good. And you are going to do great things Peter, I promise."

"Very flattering," he blushed. "But I'm not even out of college."

"But you will be soon enough. And I don't want somebody like Stark poaching you. You know how I hate to lose."

Peter did know; Norman had engaged in a vicious legal battle a couple years earlier over the control of his company. Those who hadn't died at the hands of some costumed freak disaster or committed suicide had, he was fairly certain, lost everything in the process.

_There was a car full of kids and Mary Jane was hanging in mid-air; the air was scorching and in the middle of it all, directing the whole morbid dance was a figure wreathed in flame, taunting him…_

"Peter? You there?" Harry elbowed him in the side.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" He blushed. "I've been a little worn out lately. Did I miss something?"

Norman nodded sympathetically. "I'm sure you have a lot to do. The successful are never content to rest on their heels. I was simply explaining how we have someone coming to the company whom you might like to meet."

"Who's that?" Peter asked, taking a sip of wine and trying to calm himself down.

"Otto Octavius is coming to OsCorp," Norman told him with a triumphant smile. "We're trying to compete with the arc reactors Stark's developed. Dr. Octavius is working on a fusion project that I believe holds great promise. He's had trouble getting funding for it, but if it works out and grings us to a level with stark, then I'm happy to pay the bills."

"Otto Octavius?" Peter lit up. "He's amazing, a complete genius!"

"You want to meet him?" Norman offered, putting his napkin on his lap as the waiter set their food down. "I'll be taking him and his wife out to dinner in a few days to welcome them to the city. You're welcome to come, of course. And I suppose you are as well," he said to Harry as an afterthought.

"Thanks," Harry muttered.

"I could _meet_ him?" Peter gushed. "That would be… that would be _amazing!_"

"I thought you would be interested," Norman said with a smile while cutting his veal. "And don't pout Harry. It's not polite or becoming. His wife taught English, I believe. I'm sure you can talk about plenty of your nonsense with her." He chewed on a piece of veal, seemingly oblivious to the death glares Harry was giving him and Peter's withdrawn mortification. "I might invite Connors too. He and Octavius are friends from way back, as I recall."

"Dr. Connors has mentioned him once or twice," Peter affirmed.

The spent the rest of the meal talking about all the research Otto had done and what he was planning to do and what it would be like to work with him and whether or not he might need an assistant. Harry listened to them for the first few minutes then let his mind wander as he peeled layers off the lasagna and ate it noodle by noodle.

After they were finished and Norman had given them a lift back to their apartment in his Mercedes, Peter was still going on about getting to meet Otto Octavius.

"They say he's got these arms he's invented, all by himself, and the word is he made an AI to go with…"

"Shut up, Peter," Harry sighed and pulled him into a kiss.

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered when they broke apart. "I got caught up in what your dad was…"

"I said to shut up," Harry reiterated. "I don't care about any of that crap. But he's gone now. And I have you all to myself," he smirked and started pressing kisses against Peter's neck, punctuating them every so often with a bite and working at the buttons of both their shirts.

"It's middle of the day!" Peter protested with a moan as he caught Harry's drift.

"Who cares?" the younger Osborn whispered, pushing Peter into their shared bedroom. "We don't have class or work. Nothing to worry about. And you don't have to say anything to make me happy."

Peter let the worries and weirdness of the day slip away as Harry took charge. And when they were finished, Peter napped soundly, with no dreams or nightmares coming back to haunt him.

~*~


	3. Met Your Children

~*~

Peter slept until the evening and woke up to hear Harry clattering about in the kitchen. Still bleary from his nap, Peter rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. As he washed his face to freshen up, his image in the mirror caught his eye. Everything seemed normal but not, as if the image reflected wasn't what he expected to see. His body was normal, which wasn't unusual since he never exercised and wasn't particularly fit. But he ran his hands over his torso, as if he thought he would find something else.

"Thought I heard you wake up." Harry stepped into the bathroom. "Dinner's almost ready. I would have gotten you up sooner, but you looked like you needed the sleep."

"Oh. Yeah," Peter mumbled absently. "Thanks for that."

"You still look out of it though," he commented, coming up behind Peter and setting his hands on the shorter man's shoulders. "Maybe you have mono or something."

"I don't know." He shook his head and splashed water on his face. "I keep staring in the mirror, like I think I'm going to see..."

"See what?"

"I don't know," he frowned. "Something." He touched a hand to his stomach. "Did I always look like this?"

"Uh, maybe? I guess. I didn't see you completely naked until a couple of months ago." Harry blushed. "Well, at least not when I was remembering to look."

"Oh. Because it feels like at one time... I thought I looked different."

"Maybe you should put on your glasses," Harry winked, handing him the plastic frames. "You'll see better."

Peter looked down at the frames like they were foreign objects before hesitantly taking them and putting them on. "Maybe," he sighed. "Did I always need these?"

"Ever since the third grade." Harry looked at him skeptically. "Maybe I should let you sleep."

"It's fine," Peter said, pulling on an old shirt from off of the top of the laundry pile. "I'm sure you put a lot of effort into dinner and I should read for tomorrow and get some problems done."

"I don't want you fall asleep into your plate. And you should get rest before you go and see my dad's shiny new scientist."

"So soon? That's tomorrow?"

"Dad called while you were asleep. Dinner's in a few days but you're invited to the lab tomorrow. You know he doesn't like to waste time."

"I know," he replied as he pulled on pants. "Are you going to be there?"

"Tell me you're kidding. You know I'd only get in the way," he scoffed. "Wouldn't understand a thing any of you guys would say. It would be awkward in the worst third wheel way."

"I like you to be there," Peter murmured and took his hand. "You wouldn't? Even for me?"

"I'd do anything for you," he said, giving him a peck on his cheek. "And it's for you that I'm staying away. You'll want to talk to Octavius, not get distracted by me and my constant begging for attention and explanations."

"You should stay. I can't lose you!" Peter cried out, then blushed.

"Whoa, Pete, calm down. It's a day, not a big deal. What's gotten into you?"

Peter froze and suddenly realized his breathing was heavy. "I'm sorry Harry. Got a little carried away, that's all." He walked out into the room. "Let's have dinner. What'd you make?"

"A stir fry. You want forks or chop sticks?"

"Fork. Too clumsy with anything else."

"Well I'll make the effort," said Harry as he set out the plates. "Try to learn a new skill."

Peter only nodded and sat down in silence, fumbling with his fork and wondering why he couldn't focus.

~*~

The night's sleep did wonders for Peter who woke up, stepped out of the shower, looked into the mirror, and saw nothing weird. Feeling reassured, he ran over his schedule in his mind as he went to the bureau to pull out a fresh shirt.

"Already set one out for you," said Harry through a mouthful of Cheerios, pointing towards the chair by Peter's desk. "Ironed and everything. I figured you'd want to look your best today."

"Thanks." He grabbed the powder-blue shirt off the back of the chair it was draped on. "And don't eat on the bed. You're going to attract ants."

"It's fine," he rolled his eyes and changed the channel on their bedroom television before eating another spoonful. "Calm down and get dressed before you're late."

"And what will you be doing today?" Peter asked as he did up the last button and looked for a tie.

"Ties are in the closet, on the right. I will be hanging out in my boxers, enjoying our cable."

"I'll make sure to tell your dad you were attending class."

"Why bother? He assumes the worst of me anyway."

Not sure how to respond, Peter settled for silence and adjusting his Windsor knot in the mirror. He cinched his belt, slid on a coat and gave a nod to harry who was still stretched out on the bed, half-tangled in the sheets and slurping up the last of his cereal.

"Enjoy your day," he said with a nod to Harry.

"You too," Harry called back, not taking his eyes from the television.

Peter's gaze hovered on him a moment longer, watching him set the bowl aside and stretch out on the bed, extending his legs and torso and reaching above to flex his arms. Then he settled down, laying in a prone position with a grin on his face. He looked calm and cheerful, even though his position held shades of something else for Peter. Harry stretched out beneath him and everything was wrong... Peter stepped back into the room and knelt on the bed to kiss him.

"Mmmph!" Harry looked at him in surprise. "Pete! You're gonna wrinkle your clothes!"

"You're worth it," said Peter with a shy grin. "Always worth it."

Harry thumbed Peter's chin. "If I had time I'd get you out of them altogether. But I wouldn't want you to let my dad down. One of us has to fulfill his expectations. You'd better get going before you end up being late."

"Alright, I'm going," Peter said, sliding off the bed but stopping again at the door. "I love you Harry. Remember that."

"Come back tonight and show me!" Harry laughed as he left.

~*~

"You want me to what?" Dr. Octavius looked at his employer skeptically. "I understand that you're funding my research and I'm grateful for that. But I don't have the time to waste..."

"Parker is not a waste of your time," Norman interrupted. "He's a very close member of the family, yes, and he is dating my son. But more than that, he's legitimately brilliant. Your colleague Connors has him doing lab work and I'm sure you'll develop a similarly high opinion of him if you spend any time together."

"Very well," he sighed. "But I would have appreciated some prior notice. What am I supposed to talk to him about anyway?"

"Your research, what else?" He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of Peter, he's probably here by now. I'll go down to the lobby to find him and bring him up to make the introductions."

"As you will," Otto replied with a nod.

"Is there a problem?" His wife left the boxes she was unpacking as soon as Norman was gone. "What's going on?"

"Osborn wants me to meet with some college kid that he's been talking up. It's his kid's boyfriend, which probably tells you all you need to know right there. A little stroking of the ego, a nod towards his nepotistic urges and I'm sure I can be rid of him."

"Well if you're sure." She kissed his cheek. "Now what else needs unpacking?"

"We need to put the shelves up, but I can help with those." He turned his head towards the door. "And I think my boss is back with his guest."

Sure enough, the door swung open a moment later revealing Norman with a slight twenty-something standing next to him.

"Dr. Octavius, I'd like you to meet Peter Parker," he said, pushing the boy towards the scientist.

Otto almost pitied the child; he looked terrified, wide-eyed as a deer with a truck bearing down on it. When he took Otto's hand, he held on like a vise and pumped with a manic urgency.

"It's good to meet you doctor," he said breathlessly, staring at Otto as if he couldn't believe they were both actually there and talking. Otto wondering what might be running through the boy's mind at that moment, if he really was genuinely impressed or frightened or both.

"Norman says you're quite the scientist."

"Oh, well, I, uh, do my best. I'm just in school but I hope to work as a scientist. One day." He flashed a weak grin. "If Dr. Connors passes me."

"Norman seems to have no qualms about your talent."

"He's very kind," said Peter, maintaining his wisp of a smile.

"Let me show you around the lab," Otto offered, breaking their grip. "I apologize that it isn't more in order, but my employer was quite insistent," he said in a low voice.

"Oh, that's alright. You can show me whatever you like. No need for apologies."

As he lead Parker around the lab, Otto found himself pleasantly surprised. Beneath the shyness and the distracted air, there were flashes of brilliance surprising in a boy his age. He asked questions, showed genuine interest and, once he'd grown comfortable with the situation, conversed intelligently about Otto's project. Once Peter had left for class, he told Norman about it with a bit of a laugh.

"He was even somewhat worried about my design," said Otto, gesturing towards the schematics that Norman was holding. "Of course, I assured him there was nothing to worry about. Poor boy looked like he was going to have a heart attack at the idea of me testing out the machine and kept coming back to how unsafe it was."

"He's right," Norman murmured.

"What?" Otto's head snapped towards him.

"Here. You'll overload unless you build up the machine to reinforce the field." He passed the diagrams back to Otto. "I trust you have enough time to make the changes?"

Otto looked at him, pale. "I've worked on this my whole life," he whispered in a confused voice.

"And most people have trouble seeing flaws in projects they've worked on for too long. Besides, don't consider it a slight to your talents. Consider it proof of Peter's."

With another nod, Otto stared down at the paper and thought back to the boy he'd met earlier.

He'd have to get to know this Parker boy better.

~*~


	4. Not to Fall Apart

~*~

Despite his professed intentions to Peter about staying in bed all day, Harry got up and began getting dressed not long after his boyfriend quitted the apartment. He wasn't altogether comfortable with the idea of going behind Peter's back, but something was bothering his boyfriend and he thought he knew what. Straightening his collar in the mirror one last time, he left the apartment himself and took the subway over to the Forest Hills neighborhood.

His anxiety still hadn't left him by the time he reached the house, so he stood on the sidewalk in front of it, hands on the fence. He studied the door before taking a deep breath, screwing his courage to the sticking place and finally knocking. When the door opened, it did so to reveal an elderly lady with her hair in a bun.

"Hello Aunt May," he said, plastering on his best polite smile. Facing Peter's family had never been as panic-inducing as facing his own father, but he felt like he'd rather confront several Norman Osborn's than Aunt May's rather disappointed gaze.

"Oh. _Harry_," she said quietly, as if his name were a dirty word.

"Can I come in?" He pressed, hoping she would let him. "It's about Peter. He's been a bit distracted lately and I know things have been rough with you guys which might be the reason and if he could patch..."

"That's your fault," said a gruff voice from behind May. "Peter was a good boy until you convinced him to start doing unnatural things," Ben barked.

Harry quailed and took a step back, but steadied himself and stayed. "I know you guys might not be thrilled about our decisions but Peter really loves you and it hurts to see him..."

"You should have thought before about hurting him yourself!" Ben interrupted again and stepped out onto the porch.

"Ben, dear..." Aunt May protested weakly but he continued.

"Did you think you were being funny or clever, taking advantage of him like that? So he was having a hard time finding the right girl. That didn't give you the right to go confusing and seducing him!"

"But I didn't..."

"Now you've got him sold on this love malarkey, but I know better. You're just like your father, you know that? Always using people. Makes me sick. But if Peter can't see sense that's his own fault. Won't listen to us so I guess he'll just have to get burnt before he realizes what a mistake he's made."

"It wasn't a mistake! I _do _care about him!"

"Sure you do, boy. Harry, you've been riding on Peter's coattails since middle school. What, were you afraid you'd flunk college if he developed other interests, met other people?"

"That doesn't even make _sense_!" Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "We're not even taking the same..."

"I think you'd better leave," Ben snapped before Harry got a chance to finish.

Harry's mouth hung open for a moment, but his resolve wilted under Ben's glower and May's pained look. He jammed his hands in his pockets and stumbled down the few steps to the walk. Turning, he fled for the nearest subway station, wondering why he'd even thought it would be a good idea to see them in the first place. Nothing had changed. And, as long as they held the perspective that what they were doing was inherently wrong, they would never accept him and Peter.

Of course, when they'd first gotten together neither of them had known how deeply their distaste ran. It wasn't a subject they'd ever discussed in the Parker household, so Peter had been cluelessly optimistic, Harry remembered. So had he, though not as much as Peter. He'd suggested breaking it to them slowly but Peter, flushed with enthusiasm from finally being in a relationship, had been bursting at the seams to tell them. He did so with a grin, holding onto Harry in the Parker's tiny kitchen as his aunt and uncle sat at the table.

Then came the explosion. Harry could still recall how red Ben's face was as he demanded that they leave and how Peter had crumpled and sobbed into his jacket afterward, the emotional rug torn out from under him.

Peter had stayed with Harry despite their disapproval, doggedly insisting that they were only shocked and would get used to the idea of having a gay nephew. Harry was growing increasingly doubtful and he wondered if Peter's estrangement from the couple that had raised him wasn't the source of his distraction. But there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it, so long as they resisted repairing the bond. If he wanted, he supposed he could break up with Peter and force him back; but he was unable or unwilling to take that course.

"Sorry, buddy," he murmured to himself as he grabbed a pole to hang on to and stared at his reflection in the door until he felt his phone ring in his pocket.

"Hello? Oh, hey, MJ. Nothing much. Yeah, sure. What time? Whenever you are. Great. I'll head over."

~*~

Peter wrote the same sentence down three times, then stared at the board trying to focus. He didn't want to miss Connor's lecture, but the image that had flashed by him earlier kept swimming in front of his eyes.

_Otto and his arms were drifting downward into a bay and below them was a pulse bright as the sun and he was drowning but there was nothing Peter could do because he had to save the girl and never mind the mentor or the hurt friend, both endlessly waiting as he set her aside then disappeared and Otto was drifting down and down and down..._

"Anybody?" Connors asked, looking over at Peter whom he'd assumed would come up with something. The boy looked flushed, though, and looked like he was about to keel over. The professor went on, but made a note of it and pulled Peter aside after class. "You alright?" He questioned.

"Oh, um, yeah. Why?"

"You seemed a bit distant in class today. Is anything wrong?"

Peter flushed. "I'm sorry! I just... I got to meet your friend Otto Octavius!" He blurted.

"Otto?" Connors smiled. "You did? How's that?"

"Norman Osborn, I'm a friend, he introduced us," Peter babbled.

"That's right, Otto told me he'd been hired. Didn't know he was coming so soon. Well? Did you talk much?"

"A little. He's smart," Peter said, trying to push down on all the fears and imaginings that thoughts of Dr. Octavius produced.

"Yes, he is." Connors smiled sympathetically; Peter was obviously stressed. "You may go. I merely thought I'd check on how you were. You should get some rest though, Peter. You'll get more out of my lectures if you're alert during them."

"Of course, sir," he mumbled and backed out of the doorway, nearly slamming into the wall as he did.

Once outside, he sat down on one of the benches that lined the hallway and, as he put his notebook away, tried to organize his thoughts. Maybe all the stress of college had finally gotten to him and he was cracking up, plain and simple. Or maybe he hadn't been getting enough rest or maybe his diet was off or maybe he had some latent disease that was only now manifesting itself... Peter shook his head as he stood up and shouldered his bag before his conjectures got too improbable.

A little rest and he'd be alright, he told himself again. And if it hadn't worked the first few times, there was nothing to do but try, try again. He made his way home and collapsed into bed, not even noticing that Harry wasn't there.

~*~

Mary Jane was already sitting at a table when Harry walked into the little pub. She flashed him a smile and stood up to give him a hug before he managed to sit down, and he returned it with gusto.

"Why the long face?" She asked when they broke apart.

"I went to Peter's relatives today," he said, sliding into a chair.

"Oh," she said, knowingly. "Same as before?"

"Yeah," he sighed.

"Well don't let it get you down," she told him while browsing the menu. "Peter can make his own decisions and if he chose to be with you, you shouldn't feel guilty about it. I have to say though, I'm a little disappointed in Aunt May and Uncle Ben. I'd expect behavior like that from my father, but not them. They were always so loving to Peter."

"I guess everybody has a line," Harry said with a shrug. "But you were saying something about a play when you called?"

"Yes!" She set down the menu with a grin. "I was cast in _The Importance of Being Ernest_. It would mean the world to me if you and Peter would come."

"Give us a time and a place and we'll be there. Several times over, if you like." He returned her smile. "Good to see you finally breaking through."

"I know. I really want to sing, but anything is a start and I'm grateful for it." The waiter walked up and she turned to him. "Tea and a Ceasar salad, easy on the dressing."

"And you sir?"

"The ranch burger with steak fries and a Coke." He handed the waiter the menu. "And I'll pick it up."

"Harry!" She protested.

"As a congratulations on your achievement," he reasoned.

"An excuse for you to do what you always do," she said. "But I suppose I can let you, this once. So apart from facing a roadblock, how are you and Peter?"

"That's the thing," said Harry, taking his drink from the waiter. "Peter's been weird lately. It's why I visited his aunt and uncle in the first place."

"Weird how? Weirder than normal?"

"He seems tired all the time and he keeps zoning out. And I think he's having nightmares." Harry sighed and shook his head. "He says it's nothing but I wonder if this whole estrangement business isn't hurting him more than he's letting on. They don't seem interested in repairing the rift though; they just blame me."

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"I wish I knew what to do, that's all," he said, taking another sip. "Besides breaking up with Pete."

"No, you shouldn't do that. You two seem like you have a really good relationship." She paused to squeeze lemon into her tea. "Have you thought that maybe he's sick? Has he seen a doctor or anything? The way he studies, I wouldn't be surprised if he came down with mono. A lot of guys like him do."

"I was thinking that. Maybe I'll force him to. I know school is important to him, but it's not worth getting sick over."

"Exactly," she agreed as the waiter brought their food. "And what about you? How's your art?"

"Going good, even if dad doesn't respect it. He sneers and Peter praises everything to the hilt, so I figure I'm probably somewhere in between. Building a good portfolio though," he told her as he squirted ketchup onto a plate.

"Well if you ever need a model, you know where to find her," she winked.

"Won't John mind?" He smirked.

"Oh, don't worry. He knows about _you_."

~*~


	5. Do You Have Faith

~*~

Peter was sprawled out on the bed sleeping when Harry returned, so he approached quietly. His boyfriend was still clothed, save for the jacket that was tossed to the side and the glasses that had been carefully set on the end table next to the lamp. Harry looked him over, trying to determine if he could work him out of his shoes and pants at least, so he could sleep more comfortably. Kneeling next to the bed, he only touched Peter's shoulder when the other man bolted up and grabbed Harry by his shirt, eyes glazed over and panting in a frenzy.

"I didn't mean to!" He screamed. "And I was going to come back! Whatever I did wrong, I would have come back and explained and I'm sure I didn't mean it!" He went on, shaking Harry roughly.

"Whoa! Calm down, Pete!" Harry took his hands and tugged him off. "What's the matter?"

Peter gasped and looked down at his hands. "I don't... I was having a nightmare I think. I remember you were there, in the penthouse, and you were angry..."

"I think we need to take you to see a doctor, Peter," Harry sighed. "This isn't normal exhaustion."

"No! There's no need for that," said Peter hastily, shaking his head and replacing his glasses while trying to unbutton his collared shirt. "I'm alright."

"Peter, you practically strangled me, screaming about how you didn't mean to do something. You've been zoning out, you talk in your sleep..."

"Really?"

"Really. Mumbling things about people dying and wanting to stop this or that. And you can't focus, even for things like talking to my dad, stuff that normally have you rapt. I'm surprised it hasn't started to effect your grades."

"Well Doctor Connors _did _mention something to me today..."

"You see? Then it isn't just me. Matter settled. We'll take you to see somebody."

"But since I graduated, I'm not on Uncle Ben's insurance," he protested.

"Never mind that. I'll take care of it. And it's your health so I don't want to hear any making it on your own garbage."

"You've already done enough, taking over the rent since Uncle Ben..."

"Don't think about stuff like that Pete. And let me take care of it. I care about you and don't want to see you work yourself into an early grave. You're my best friend, right?"

Peter looked at him, blankly. "Yes. Yes, I... I guess I am."

"You seem upset. Is something wrong?"

"Those words... you're my best... I'm sorry, Harry. Do you want dinner?"

"Peter, it's only three or four in the afternoon."

"Oh."

"But if you want food I can go out or have something delivered."

"What about you?"

"Ate already. MJ called and asked for a lunch date to catch up on things."

_Mary Jane with Harry, Mary Jane with him, singing in a cafe, and another cafe with Harry gloating, and an air of jealousy hovering about it all..._

"Oh. Is that why you decided to go out? I thought you were planning to stay in all day," Peter quickly noted as he changed into a set of flannel pants, hoping Harry hadn't noticed his distraction.

"That was part of it." Harry looked at the floor uncomfortably. "There was another reason."

"Something wrong?"

"I don't like keeping secrets from you, Pete," he sighed. "So I won't. I went to your aunt and uncle's house today."

"I see." He hesitated. "And?"

"Same as before," he said with a shake of his head. "I don't know that they're going to get over this Peter."

"They have to come around!" He gripped the chair by his desk. "They _have _to!"

"Peter, if you want me... if you think that breaking up..."

"I don't want that! Don't push me away, Harry!"

"I wasn't trying to," he said, leaving for the kitchen with Peter in his wake. "But you can understand how I would feel a little guilty about the situation."

"Uncle Ben blames you," Peter acknowledge with regret.

"I wasn't going to be the one to say so - but yes."

"Still. I don't... I want you here with me." He grabbed Harry's wrist and pressed hard enough for Harry to fight a wince.

"Alright, Peter, alright. Calm down, I'm not going anywhere." He smiled and pulled out a phone book. "Now let me know what you'd like to get so you don't starve to death."

The pizza arrived before long and Harry, despite his lunch, nibbled on a slice while Peter tore through the rest. Half-through the pie, he set a half eaten piece down and picked at the sausage that littered the cheesy surface.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you every think about serious things?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno. Like dying. And heaven and hell and stuff." He dipped a torn piece of crust into a cup of garlic butter. "That sort of thing."

"Is this about your relatives? Because I don't think you should think about things like that. Thinking about it is only going to make you upset."

"I don't know" he said, dipping again. "I mean, you have to think about it at some point don't you?"

"Maybe. I don't know. What are you thinking?"

"I don't know what to think. What do you think?"

"I don't think we're doing anything wrong if that's what you're asking. I don't think that people loving each other is a _bad _thing."

"And your father? What would he say?"

"My father puts little stock in love, only in power, and he no more believes in heaven and hell than he does in the tooth fairy. I think he considers the idea of omnipotence to be an affront to his own possibilities."

"And you?"

"I dunno. Maybe there's something? I mean, I guess I'll find out one day. Why all this religious talk? Have you aunt and uncle said something to you? Told you you're going to hell or something like that? Are you really that upset about it?"

"No, not in so many words. It's just... I feel... something's wrong, Harry. I feel like I'm on the edge of hell, like I've done something wrong."

"Because of me?" Harry looked at him over the box. "I never thought you would..."

"No! Not... not us. Something else. I think I've done something else, something good and terrible and I can't remember what it is but it's always there, right on the fringes of my memory and it won't leave me alone..."

"I'm calling the doctor," Harry sighed, dropping the slice he'd been working on onto a plate with a flop.

"I'm not _crazy!_" Peter protested, getting up to get between Harry and the phone.

"But you are overworked." He pressed his hand against Peter's chest. "Come on Peter. Dreams of hell, restless nights, all this nervousness... Something is wrong. My family has always used people who can keep things quiet, so don't worry about that. Let me take care of it and in a week or a month it will be like it never happened. Better than having a breakdown before your finals or in front of my father, right?"

Peter stepped back, relenting. "I suppose."

"Good. I'll make that call, then," he said, grabbing the phone of the cradle. "And if you want to get some rest or work on your classwork, go ahead. I'll put the rest away in the fridge and clean up the mess."

"You don't have to..."

"It's fine Peter. Hello?" He spoke into the phone. "Dr. Hamilton? Harry Osborn. Yes. I was wondering if you had time for an apointment? No, not for me. For my partner. Yes, I think I can get my hands on his medicals records," he said with a glance towards Peter who nodded. "Next Thursday? Alright. Yes, later is better, he has classes. Alright. I'll make a note of it. Thanks. Bye." He hung up the phone with a click and looked at Peter with a smile. "You see how easy that was?"

Peter gave him a knowing smile. "People make allowances for your last name."

"And if they do? If it helps you, why worry?" Harry shrugged. "Now come on. I'm sure you have stuff to get done." He wrapped up the leftovers in foil and stuck them in the fridge. "I told you, I'll finish up here. And no more thinking about hell or any of that nonsense."

"Alright," Peter sighed and shuffled off to wrestle with chemistry equations.

~*~

Thursday could not come quickly enough, Peter soon felt. He tried to behave as normally as possible, but he wasn't sure what he was doing while he was sleeping and didn't know how much longer he could maintain his facade and his focus. He walked into the dinner with Dr. Octavius, nervous that the same distraction and anxiety that had made their first meeting so tense would return. Harry flanked him closely as they walked into the restaurant and Peter could only hope he didn't look pale.

"Pete? Are you okay? You look like you're about to pass out. If you need to go home..."

"I'm fine!" He insisted.

"Alright!" Harry held up his hands. "Only trying to help"

"Thanks Harry, but I'm fine." He forced a smile. "I think I see your father over there."

"Yes, that's him," said Harry with a rueful sigh. "Guess we can't put this off any longer."

They walked up to the table where two empty chairs were still waiting.

"Peter! Harry," Norman said, with a smile towards Peter. "Glad you made it. You know Otto, of course, and this is his wife Rosie. Rosie, my son and his partner, Peter Parker."

"Hello." Peter smiled at her, trying to ignore images of shattering glass. "We met briefly the other day, but didn't get to talk much."

"We did. But Otto has talked so much of you," she said. "I think he's finally been as convinced of your brilliance as his employer is."

"Quite," said Otto with a smile. "I was reluctant to admit it, but you knew what you were about the other day."

"Really?"

"I backed you up," Norman pointed out with a knowing smile. "And Otto, well, he came around."

The three of them continued to discuss Otto's project while Harry played with the table settings in front of him, unsure of what else to do.

"And Harry, was it?" Rosie looked to him. "The man behind the man - in a manner of speaking," she said with a slight smirk that Harry quickly shared. She leaned in towards him, carefully setting aside the table's candle. "I understand what it is to love someone so brilliant but, well..."

"Quirky?" Harry offered.

"That's one way of putting it," she smiled. "Hard sometimes isn't it? But worth it nonetheless." The waiter brought her tea and she looked at Harry. "Do you want anything?"

"Water's fine," he said with a nod.

"So tell me, how did you two meet?"

"We were friends going far back. Perhaps I always had feelings... it's hard to say," he shrugged. "I went through a difficult breakup and Peter was there for me. And he was always there for me and put up with my quirks and then one day... well it was like it had been staring us in the face all along but we'd never seen it."

"Your father seems very fond of him as well. You two must have always been close."

He looked down. " We were. My father was thrilled to hear I was dating Peter. Probably happier about it than I was, which is saying a lot. Our relationship didn't go over so well with Peter's family, though."

"Oh, I am sorry," she murmured sympathetically, sipping her tea. "I don't know how I could have tolerated a similar situation. Otto is of the feeling that love ought never been concealed or forbidden... he's quite the romantic, my Otto."

"Really?" Harry laughed slightly.

At the other end of the table, Peter glanced over at Harry, still conversing in murmurs with Otto's wife.

"You really have a great affection for him, don't you?" Otto said with a smile at Peter.

"Yes," Peter nodded vehemently. "Very much."

"Poetry."

"What?" He looked back at Octavius.

"Use poetry," he suggested with a smile. "It's how I won Rosie."

"I'll keep that in mind," Peter said with a small, grateful smile, glancing at Harry again before turning back to his dinner.

~*~

A/N: Kudos to those who recognize the shout out to the comics. And if you liked or didn't like or have any thoughts at all, please do leave a review - they're always encouraging and appreciated. :)


	6. They Don't Come Better

~*~

Otto and Rosie left after dessert, with Norman shooing them away so he could take care of the bill. While the waiter walked away with his charge card he turned to the boys.

"Thank you for not interrupting us all evening," Norman said to Harry. "I suppose you'll be needing a ride back?"

Harry turned red and stood up. "I can take a cab!" He stood up, flushed.

"There's no need to be immature Harry. I was only asking." Norman finished off his wine while Harry stared at him for a moment before storming off.

It was a scene Peter felt like he'd seen played out a hundred times before. Harry didn't live up, so Harry got torn down. Again, and again, and again. And it was hurtful to him but nobody did anything about it because his father was Norman Osborn. Harry couldn't say no to him, but neither could anybody else.

"_Your father despised you!" _

Peter's stomach twisted and he turned to Norman. "Did you have to do that?" He said in a voice somewhere between weary disappointment and snappish anger. "He doesn't want much. Only a little affection. I know he's not like you but he's not a bad kid."

Normand studied Peter for a moment, as if he couldn't quite believe that Peter was talking back to him over his conduct towards his son. For a moment, Peter worried that he would grow angry at him too and it would go badly for himself and Harry. Instead, Norman smiled, something sudden and unnerving, almost unnatural.

"I've never heard a speech like that from you before. You must really care for him." The waiter came back and Norman wrote in a tip before scrawling his name at the bottom of the slip. "Alright, Parker. Perhaps you're right. I hate to rely upon recycled, tired adages but perhaps honey is more effective on vinegar. And perhaps I'm being too hard on the boy." He got up and put on his jacket. "Come. I'll take you back. And when you get up, send my son down. I would like to apologize and have a talk with him."

Peter floundered for a moment in disbelief, but quickly came out of his momentary haze and grabbed his own jacket. "Of course, sir. Thank you for dinner. And the ride."

"It's my pleasure, Peter," he said, smiling and smiling.

~*~

Harry got into the car, arms crossed, not looking at his father. Peter had said that Norman wanted to apologize, but he somehow doubted that. His father never apologized to anybody, and certainly not to him.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Don't be so moody." Norman halted, and then softened his tone. "Yes, I wanted to see you." He allowed the car to idle and turned the heat up slightly. "I'm afraid I might have been a bit out of hand at dinner. More than that, actually. I know I've been hard on you your whole life. I wanted to make you strong, turn you into the same kind of man I am. But I can see now that's never going to happen."

"That's what you had me come all the way down for?" Harry rolled his eyes. "Thanks dad, but I figured that one out on my own." He set his hand on the door handle. "I'm going back upstairs."

"Harold, let me finish," Norman insisted. "I wanted to make you in my shape. But I see now you are far more like your mother. And that, too, is not without it's purpose." He looked towards his son. "You got along well with Rosalie Octavius I noticed."

"Yeah, so? What does that have to do with anything?"

"What I'm trying to say, albeit in a roundabout fashion, is that you're like her. And like your mother. Brilliant men, strong men, like myself and Otto cannot always do it by themselves. If necessity demands it, they can. But a loyal partner certainly helps along the way. Harry, some day, sooner than perhaps you or he think, Peter is going to be such a strong man. At least I hope that will be the case. But it's not always enough to have potential.

I cannot make you like me and it was a fool's errand to try. But I hope you can be like your mother. Peter has always been close to us, almost like one of the family. And if it is ever legally permissible for him to become so, I hope he will."

"Dad!" Harry blushed. "I don't wanna… I mean, I haven't even thought about marriage!"

"One day you will. In the meanwhile, listen to me well. Peter cares for you enough to stand up to me. I'm not blind; I know that takes some doing. My own employees cannot do so, only men like Otto come close. He cares about you and is loyal to you and I expect you not to squander that. More than that, I expect you to return the favor. Peter is going to need someone to come home to, someone to motivate him."

"I don't need to be told to love Pete; I already do."

"I know. But this is more than that. I'm telling you to do what you have to in order to support him."

"So basically you're telling me to be a good wife," Harry chuckled despite himself.

"Well that's a bit reductive," Norman retorted frostily. "But something like that. Dealing with the business of a major corporation is difficult and don't think that I don't miss having your mother to come home to at night. When I was younger, it was something deeply appreciated. And Peter is used to a stable home environment. That's what you need to provide for him." He cleared his throat. "You're a good boy Harry. I trust you to do right by Peter. I only wanted to remind you how important that is."

Harry could barely believe they were having this talk, but he looked down anyway, still too eager for the opportunity to please.

"You mean that? That you're proud of me, even if I'm not going to be the head of the company someday."

"Harry," Norman said, placing his hand on his son's shoulder, "we all have our roles to play. All I ask is that you do what you do to the best of your ability and give Peter what he needs. And I apologize for asking you to be someone you weren't when what you are is so valuable and important."

Harry suspected his father might change his tune if he ever broke up with Peter; but it was good enough for now. "Thanks dad," he replied with a hint of a grin. He didn't push a hug but the look in his father's face was enough.

"I'm glad we had this talk," said Norman. "Now get back up there. I'm sure you have class in the morning."

"Later dad!"

"Goodnight son." Norman shifted the car into gear and drove off, leaving Harry on the sidewalk.

When he got back upstairs, Peter was still waiting. "How'd it go?"

"Well, actually," Harry said with a smile. "He really seemed sincere."

"What did he say?"

"This and that. Told me that he was sorry for wanting me to be who I wasn't, said I was like mom." He laughed and threw his coast aside. "Gave me a nineteen-fifties style lecture on being a good wife."

"Really?" Peter slid his hands around Harry's waist. "That's… interesting."

"Hey, as long as it's not 'you're stupid and you suck' I'll take it." Harry leaned in and kissed him. "Now let's get to bed. I'm kinda beat after this evening and I'm sure you need the rest."

"I'm alright," Peter murmured. "I didn't do anything weird at dinner, did I?"

"No, but you need sleep anyway." Harry nudged him towards the door. "And besides, I like having you in the bed with me. It makes it all toasty beneath the blanket."

Peter laughed. "Great, I get to be your space heater."

"Come on," Harry said, "And lets get out of these stupid suits." He worked at his buttons and looked at Peter who was setting aside his tie. "And hey, thanks for standing up to dad for me. He told me you did that."

"Wasn't anything," Peter said with a blush. "You did the same for me with my aunt and uncle."

"Except that didn't turn out quite so well," said Harry glumly, pulling on pajama pants.

"At least you tried," Peter replied, lifting a nightshirt above his head. "I still think they just need time."

"Maybe," Harry conceded, getting beneath the blanket.

"Cozy?" Peter asked after he slid in to join him.

"Very. Good night Peter."

"Good night," he murmured, settling in for a thankfully dreamless sleep.

~*~

Norman Osborn stepped into his penthouse and chucked his jacket, pausing for a moment to take in the stillness of the place. He hadn't been lying to Harry; he still missed his wife, quite badly at times. But he had to handle what he had to handle. He wasn't going to marry again for the sake of it and he'd never found her like again.

Besides, there were ways in which the privacy that came with the loneliness was a blessing. He stepped over to a large mirror that decorated the room and pressed a button so that the mirror moved away, revealing a doorway and a room. He stepped inside the place, a musty area that wasn't quite overrun with cobwebs.

After the passing of the board members and his unopposed ascendancy to the head of his company, there had been no need to do anything for a long while. His enemies had all fallen away. But now Stark was on the rise and, whether or not Otto's invention worked, they would have competition.

To say nothing of some of Stark's 'other' activities. Parading about in that ridiculous suit, garnering attention to himself and his company. And now he was going on about some ridiculous initiative, about building a team. Construction was set to begin on some sort of ostentatious tower but the public was loving every moment of it. Any fool with a shred of foresight could see it was going to end badly in one way or another, but people kept blindly cheering him on like that insipid, shallow playboy was some kind of savior.

Norman clenched his teeth and ran his hand over the smooth, curved surface of a mask. He was a resourceful man, an intelligent man, surely enough to match Stark's mind if not his youth. There were things he could do before matters got too far out of hand and the rival became a trust threat in more ways than one. And anyway, Stark should expect somebody to fill the role Norman intended to play.

Every hero needed a villain, after all.

~*~

A/N: So Norman's got some plot going and things are moving for more than just Peter. He won't be absent from the story for long, though, and he might be getting his powers in the foreseeable future. For now, I hope you liked and please review!


	7. Fire in the Sky

~*~

"You look rested," Harry remarked as he stepped into the kitchen to find Peter making coffee.

"You too," Peter smiled. "Here, I'll make you a cup. Lots of sugar and just a little cream, right?" Peter poured in the sugar and stirred.

"Yeah." He took the cup from Peter, his hands pressing over those of the others. "Warm," he said with a smile. "And I'm surprised I look rested at all, after that workout you gave."

"All the better to make you sleep deeply." Peter sat down. "I'll admit, I was nervous at first about taking the medication the doctor gave me, but it feels like it really has helped."

"No more nightmares?"

"None," he grinned blissfully. "It's like a weight's been lifted, no lie."

"I told you that he was the best. Nothing but the best for Osborns. And dad loves you like a son so you might as well be one."

"His affection is what makes me an Osborn?" Peter smirked.

"Don't get smart," Harry tease. "I'm just glad you're back to being yourself again," he said as he slurped the last of his coffee. "It was getting weird for a while there."

"Yeah. Weird." Peter laughed. There was something, it hadn't gone away completely, but it was so much quieter now. And it was better not to ask. Ask and you might upset thing, ask and the answers you receive might not be the answers you want.

"So are you doing anything other than class?"

"Yeah. I think I'm going to visit Otto's lab again, to see how the machine is coming along. After the last time when your dad got behind my suggestions he seemed a lot more receptive towards me, asked me to help out and oversee a few things. You know, make recommendations, make sure that everything is running smoothly. Said that an extra pair of eyes couldn't hurt, or an extra brain either."

Harry frowned. "You sure that's a good idea, Pete? Stark's been attacked twice in the last three weeks. I'm nervous enough as it is with dad being at work all the time if someone's terrorizing labs. I don't want to worry about you too. Especially if you're visiting something like Otto's lab. It was research labs they went after."

"Stark has a lot of enemies," Peter said casually. "And he's the only one that's been attacked. I doubt that your father's lab is in any danger." Peter grabbed a muffin out of a box on the sideboard. "It's probably got something to do with one of those radical groups he attacked. Nothing to do with your dad."

"But you don't _know_ that," Harry said. "Stark's labs could just be the start."

"It will be alright," Peter said, picking at a blueberry. "I promise."

"Better mean it." Harry kissed his temple.

"It will be. Everything's alright Harry." He nibbled the muffin and stretched. "For the first time in ages. It really feels alright."

~*~

It wasn't right, Norman thought and he struggled to clear his vision. Stark should have been able to react that quickly and the fight wasn't supposed to escalated like it had.

He'd needed to attack, of course. Too many attacks on Stark and nobody else would instantly raise suspicion. He had to make it look like labs, in general, were being attacked, and a few explosions in his own lab would be sure to throw off whatever officers would be investigating. But the whole matter had gone wrong and gotten out of hand from the very start.

The wall had caved in revealing Peter, Peter whom Norman hadn't known was going to be there. It was only supposed to be Otto, whose workstation was on the far side of the lab. He would break a few replaceable things, terrify the scientist but not hurt him, make it so that the cops wouldn't trace him, that was all. Peter was a contingency. But contingencies could be handled.

Stark, however, was not so easily dealt with. He'd appeared not long after the wall collapsed, crowing insufferably.

"I get back from a mission and what do I find in my own back yard?" He slammed them into the machine, breaking a piece of equipment that made even Norman wince to think about how much it would cost to rebuild.

He tried to throw him to the ground but, damn it, that suit weighed a hell of a lot more than it looked like.

"Shouldn't you be running home to your red-headed skank?"

"Shouldn't you have waited for Halloween?"

There was smoke billowing everywhere and he was sure he would have asphyxiated if not for the filters in his mask. But there was fire, a lot of it, too much of it. Those damn boots of Stark's. The sprinklers were on and that might have helped. But there were bigger problems. Otto had been testing the machine, it was on, it was on and Norman could hear it charging up.

But it was a chance to kill Stark once and for all, though thought as he tried to work his way out from beneath Stark's fists. His glider was doing him little good, backed into a corner as he was, so he kicked it out from beneath him and tried to manipulate it to slam Stark from behind. Bastard heard it coming though and hit it away, sending it blindly flying.

More screams. He needed to get out of here. He need to take it outside, needed to stop that machine, needed to get away from the relentless rain of Stark's metal-cased fists, needed to…

"The machine!" Peter's voice broke through the fray. "Otto, your arms, pull the plugs out, you've got to try…!"

Starks head turned as if he realized what he was doing, but the moment the Goblin twitched, Stark's attention was taken once again. He lifted him up and ripped off the mask, shocked for a moment and them triumphant.

"I should have known," he said before sending him barreling into the floor.

"Otto!" Norman rasped. "It wasn't supposed to…. I was only distracting…" It was a bad dream, it had to be, because Otto esteemed him and Peter worshipped him and they were somewhere in the room, staring and screaming.

The machine was pulling everything in and Otto was trying, Norman could see, but Stark wasn't letting go. Everything was collapsing and collapsing as Stark was stripping him of his arm, determined to expose him to the world in the midst of all the crashing class and splintering wood. Down and down and down…

…and then dark.

~*~

The police weren't letting him through, but Harry could barely stomach the site of the exploded building. He'd told Peter, he'd told him, but Peter didn't listen and could be _dead_… Harry ducked into the alley, and vomited, trying hard to breathe through his mouth so that the smell of burnt hair and charred flesh would stop reaching his nostrils and making his stomach turn.

Lifting his head up and looking over, he tried not to think about what might have happened. Paramedics were rushing everywhere and he view for attention.

"Peter Parker," he blurted. "Peter! Have you… he's got brown hair, short, he was wearing… something blue, I think, a blue shirt…" He caught sight of a slumped figure being given oxygen and felt a heady rush. "Peter!"

"Harry," he rasped as his boyfriend pushed the attending EMT out of the way. "Harry, it was awful…"

"I told you, I told you, but oh God Peter I'm so glad that you're alive, forget I even said anything, I never want to say anything again, I'm just so glad…" He paused for breath. "I'm babbling. I'm sorry, I'm…"

"Harry," Peter gulped, "there's something you need to find out. The cops are going to talk to you."

"Can't they talk to dad?" Harry squeezed harder. "I'm sure they can track him down and he's always been better at taking charge in situations like these. I just want to sit here for a while…"

Peter pushed him away. "Harry, it's about your dad. They… they can't talk to your dad."

"What?" Harry's arms felt suddenly leaden and the sick feeling returned in a wave.

"The attack… Harry, I don't know where to begin…"

"Was he hurt?" Harry could hear his voice, could hear his own fear. "Is he…?"

"There's more Harry, a lot more, but he's…" Harry could see tears forming in Peter's eyes. "It shouldn't have ended up like this…"

"Don't take her!" There was a bellow behind them and they shifted to see several technicians trying to hold back Otto. "Don't! She isn't dead, you aren't looking hard enough, there's a pulse, there has to be a pulse, _I won't let her be dead!_"

One of the blue-suited figures stepped up behind him and injected his neck with something that made his body go slack. Harry caught sight of two body bags and the way Peter's fingers curled and tightened around his neck, he knew, knew for sure and turned so that he wouldn't have to see.

"I should have known things couldn't have stayed right for very long," Peter's voice said into his ear.

That couldn't be right, Harry though. That couldn't make sense, things had been looking up, been improving, his father had finally looked towards him with something other than disdain and Peter had been getting better, it had all been falling into place…

But somewhere something had gone wrong. And there was no father any more to fix things, no parent to set the world right.

"I'll make it right again, Peter. I promise you I'll make it right," he said, running his hands over every inch of Peter's flesh that he could manage before he was torn away, given over the police while Peter was spirited to the hospital.

"No, Harry, you don't… your dad, he was…" Peter's protests were cut off as he was forced behind doors that were quickly shut. Harry gazed after him until the police commanded his attention with a tug of his arm.

"You know anything 'bout this, son?" The officer held up a green, singed helmet.

"No," he whispered as they brought Norman's shattered, armored body over, and a world in shambles was set slowly aflame.

~*~

A/n: I felt the pacing might have been a little bit quick, but I didn't want to draw things out too much. I hope you liked and that you'll leave some feedback – I could use the improvement and the encouragement. :)


	8. Help You Carry On

~*~

The hospital didn't keep him long, only over night. But it was enough time to make Peter worried about Harry's condition. He hadn't been there when Peter was released, so he spent the entire cab ride home wondering what he'd found out about Norman. As the driver maneuvered them through traffic, Peter felt his throat grow scratch again and he coughed, hauling up memories of the smoke filled building.

…_he'd saved Harry, hauled him out of the way…_

Peter rolled down the window and shook his head to clear it. Harry had to be going through hell and he hoped he could get there as quickly as possible. He instructed the cabbie to go to their apartment's address rather than the Osborn penthouse, and found when he ascended the stairs that he'd guessed correctly.

Harry was there, passed out on the couch in the middle of a pile of beer cans and Kleenex. It looked like he hadn't gotten up at all and stubble was begging to grown on his chin. Peter tiptoed over the cans and shook him, hoping Harry hadn't done something stupid.

"Har? You awake?"

"I told you, 'm not answerin' questions," Harry mumbled and twisted away.

"Harry, it's me. Peter."

"Pete?" He turned back and his eyes cracked open. "Pete!" He clumsily flung his arms around Peter who hugged back. "You're alright!"

"Just a little smoke inhalation," he assured him. "Do you want to talk?"

"No," Harry whispered.

"Well that's okay. Do you want some water? Something to drink. Something not alcoholic," he amended.

"Yeah, water would be nice. And an aspirin. Maybe a few."

"Alright. Wait here and I'll be back."

When he returned, he found Harry picking up the cans and tissues, tossing them into a wastepaper basket. "Sorry about the mess," he apologized, shoving more garbage into the plastic bag.

"Don't worry about it. Here's your water and some Bayer."

"Thanks for that." Harry took the medication and washed it down as they sat on the couch. "I meant to come get you," he said, apologetic tone still present. "But I got a little smashed."

"It was fine. I got a cab." Peter looked at him, unsure. "What did you do last night? If you don't want to talk…"

"I gave a statement. I don't know anything, but I talked to the cops anyway. They're ransacking the house. God only knows what they're going to find." He exhaled, finished his water and closed his eyes. "He's dead Pete. I can't believe he's dead, but…"

"I know." Peter leaned against him, feeling like his throat was closing again but not from any smoke damage. "He was really good to me, your father. I really appreciated it."

"He loved you."

"And you."

"You really think so?" Harry's eyes were rimmed with tears.

"You know he did," Peter said, kissing him. "In the end, he did. And he accepted you for who you were."

Harry nodded and swallowed thickly. "This is all that bastard Stark's fault," he said with a sniff. The tears were starting again, but his face was creased with anger in addition to sorrow. "He didn't have to kill dad. Dad needed help, he wasn't… the stress of this job and who knows what he might have been exposed to in his labs!" He turned, still crying. "This wasn't his fault, Peter!"

"It's okay," Peter whispered and rubbed his back, trying to reassure him.

"It's not!" Harry jerked away. "He kills my father and everybody treats him like a hero! Sauntering around like he owns the whole damn city, smiling that stupid, shit-eating smile of his, thinking he's so fucking untouchable he doesn't even need to hide his identity. And I can't do anything about it!" He slammed the glass from his water down on the coffee table and his body shook. "I can't even do anything to get him back for that! And nobody will ever punish him."

Peter watched as he dissolved into sobs once more, a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Harry was right; Norman needed help, not to get smashed through several floors of a building.

"What about everything else, Harry?" Peter nervously pressed. "What about Otto? What about the company?"

"Otto?" Harry turned his head, looked confused.

"Otto. Otto Octavius," Peter pressed. "The man I was with when… when everything happened."

Harry's mouth hung open for a moment. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "I haven't heard anything since they drugged and dragged him off to the hospital."

"So he could be dead too," Peter muttered, feeling sick and helpless.

"I guess." Harry's body fell onto Peter's. "Dunno 'bout the company either. But I can guess. I'd be surprised if it's not well on its way to going under by now. The CEO goes nuts and kills a bunch of people?" He laughed humorlessly. "That's gonna go over well with shareholders."

"Isn't there anybody in PR who might be helping to keep this low key? Put a spin on it?"

"Maybe? Shit, Pete, I don't know," he groaned. "Dad always took care of this stuff. I have no idea how it operates, who does what or how anything gets handled." Without another word, Peter stood up and grabbed his jacket. "Where are you going?" Harry asked, distressed. "Shouldn't you be resting or something? You just got back from the hospital." He went after him and managed to get a hold of his arm. "Besides, Pete, I would… I'd feel a lot better if you were around."

"I just need to check on something." Peter spun around and gave Harry a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll be right back, don't worry. Less than an hour." He looked at Harry warily. "You won't start drinking will you?"

"I think I drank everything we had to drink and I don't feel much like going out," Harry admitted a little shame-facedly. "Ugh. I can feel the headache coming on already."

"No more of that," Peter gently warned as he reached the door. "And don't worry. I'll be back before you know it and you know I'm here for you 100% once I get back."

"Alright." Harry nestled into the couch, still looking anxious. "But hurry."

~*~

If the odds had been calculated on the two events happening simultaneously, they would have probably been astronomical. The heat had been unlike anything the tiny spider brain had been unable to remember or understand anything so dangerous. Driven by instinct, it ran as soon as its glass was shattered, finding safety only by chance.

In another lab two stories up, a sample from a landing site miles away was writhing in absolute agony. It impervious to many forces, but fire was one of the few things that could utterly destroy it. But here, as with the shuttle, there were crannies in which to hide and ride out the proverbial storm. Even with all the destruction, it would do anything to find a way to survive, even if its mass was greatly reduced.

Once the entire building came down, a spider scuttled out from the wreckage and into a small splotch of good, panicking again as soon as they combined.

~*~

Moved by impulse and a drive he couldn't explain or understand Peter made his way to where Oscorp's laboratories had been. The site was nothing but rubble by then, still cordoned off by police tape even though nobody was there anymore. The twisted metal hulks of equipment that had fallen all around him had been hauled away and all that was left were a few scraps. Even the building had been hurriedly imploded, the tottering structure being a danger to the city he presumed.

He sighed uneasily, not sure why he'd been drawn to the spot. It didn't exactly hold a lot of good memories; for every recollection of scientific fascination or success, there was an incident of Harry's humiliation or embarrassment to dampen the idea. The labs and experiments had fascinated him, but they'd always drawn away Norman's attention more than Harry would have wished.

…_a field trip, students jostling around each other, Harry defending…_

"Sorry, Harry," he sighed to himself, stepping a little closer to the wreckage. "Don't know what I was thinking, coming here."

He turned and left, not noticing the frantically scrambling little creature that latched on to his leg. He remained uneasy, however, a feeling that followed him all the way back to the apartment. When he got returned, Harry was shrouded in a blanket with his eyes fixed to the television.

"Harry? Something wrong?"

"You'd better come see this Pete." He clicked so that the volume grew louder. "You were asking about Otto?"

Peter sat down next to him, feeling a tickle on his neck, and paled as a reporter standing in front of a shattered operating room explained.

"…where earlier, renowned scientist Otto Octavius was apparently driven to homicide in the wake of a devastating accident. Doctors were attempting to removed a series of arms that had become welded to his spine when…"

"Is he dead?"

"No. It's on every channel." Harry gulped. "He's escaped. He's somewhere out there, Peter, but when they find him…"

"This is all Stark's fault," Peter snapped, echoing Harry's earlier words. "Stark did this!" He turned to Harry, whose eyes had gotten wide. "I was there, Harry! If he hadn't been so violent, so eager to show off, then we could have shut down the machine before anything happened and he caused it to destabilize. He made it _worse_!"

"I know!" Harry screamed, anguished. "And he killed my father and he's probably going to take all the business we…" Harry trailed off and punched the side of the couch. "And there's nothing we can do!"

"I'll find something to do, I promise Harry." Peter took him by the shoulders. "Do you hear me? I promise!"

"I promised _you_…" Harry whispered.

"I owe you and your father everything. I won't betray that," Peter assured him, feeling something well inside him, terrifying and exhilarating. "I will do whatever I can to save your father's company and protect his legacy, and then after that, once time has passed and he thinks nothing more of it, when all the ghosts are quiet and when he assumes the fires are cold, I'll see that Stark gets his."

"You really think you can?" Harry asked quietly, unused to seeing such fervor in the normally placid Peter.

"I will," he promised again and pressed up against Harry, hands against his face, fingers sliding against his curls. "You wait and see. I will."

"I believe you," Harry murmured, letting the distance between them close.

~*~


End file.
